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It was Dis who convinced him that there was hope. Thorin wasn't sure he would ever forgive her for that.
“You never told him that the mithril armor was a courting gift,” she said, which was true.
“He does not know our ways,” she said, which was also true.
“I will help you,” she said, and she did. So perhaps it was not her fault. Perhaps the blame lay where it always had: with Thorin alone.
When Bilbo confirmed that he knew nothing about dwarven gifts, even openly admiring Thorin’s craftsmanship, it had been too good to be true. Obviously Bilbo saw the beauty in dwarven crafts. The hobbit would not have remained with them in Erebor if he could not. That did not mean he desired such things for himself, or saw any beauty in Thorin’s person.
Yet Thorin had foolishly allowed himself to believe that there was a chance Bilbo would be open to a second courting gift. After all, he had not ever really repudiated the first. He simply had not worn it since the battle, but that was not the same as returning it or casting it away. Of course, since he had no context for the gift, it could not be said that Bilbo ever truly accepted it either. Unfortunately that thought did not occur to Thorin until far too late.
Throwing himself into crafting a great gift had been the only thought in his mind from the moment Bilbo indicated a willingness to accept one. A king’s time was not his own, but the hours he spent eating or sleeping could be given to the forge instead.
Taking the jewels that Bilbo himself had once said ought to be used by a dwarf to make something beautiful instead of being left in a dark chest, Thorin set each one in gold. Working that gold into delicate linkings which allowed such large gems to fold together in any direction for a full range of motion was no simple matter. Only a master of the craft could manage it. In this way, Thorin created a chain more valuable than any in the treasure horde of Thror or any kingdom that had come before. That was only the beginning.
Upon the chain he set a medallion. It was not conceit to call this pendant a masterwork. Gold shaped easily, and any apprentice could etch a scene into a brick of the weight Thorin chose. However, to show a journey that crossed half of Middle Earth, to show Bilbo’s face exactly as it had looked when Thorin granted him leave to remain in Erebor, that was not done easily or quickly. Yet once he finished, he was able to look upon it and call it good. Bilbo’s face was always good, especially when it looked so happy.
There was no fault in the gift.
Two weeks he had spent at his crafting, but they were a happy time. Taking breakfast with his hobbit every morning, the king allowed himself to imagine a future. Not only would his gift be accepted, but the courtship would go well. Once they began, Bilbo would sit beside him every night at dinner in a place of honor. They would spend hours together in conversation, not only breakfast. Days would come, Thorin thought foolishly, when Bilbo took a morning meal with the king simply because they woke up together, instead of doing so merely because a hobbit’s kind heart could not bear the thought of a friend going hungry. Perhaps, he dreamed like an idiot, once they were married Bilbo might even be open to the idea of working up an appetite before getting out of bed. A bed they would share.
Dis was the one to suggest Bofur’s little celebration as a good venue for the presentation of the gift. The giving could be done publicly, as was proper, without being in front of so many people that Bilbo might fear to refuse or embarrass Thorin. Moreover, it gave him one last chance to show off before the giving. Bilbo had already seen Thorin at his worst in battle, lying at Azog’s feet, as well as at his best, when he finally managed to behead the foul orc. Still, it did no harm to dance a little and remind his One that Thorin had the strength and stamina to match any dwarf in the mountain. Dis agreed and consented to dance with him. It was kind of her, and she danced well. The fault did not lie in their dancing.
Then Bilbo asked Thorin for a dance, and the dwarf thought his heart would stop. Of course it was only in support of the cursed elf’s attempt to court Kili and so Thorin refused. Perhaps that was where his fault lay. If he had only agreed at once, perhaps Bilbo might have been willing to hear him. It hardly mattered. Their first dance together could not come simply because Bilbo’s soft heart found the king useful. Yet the look on his face when Thorin did not immediately follow him into the reel was intolerable.
“She can not be his One,” Thorin said when Bilbo argued on the elf’s behalf. “Mahal did not make her for him.”
“Oh.” Bilbo’s pleasantly cajoling smile fell away. “Then you do not think a dwarf can fall in love with someone who is not a dwarf?”
Thorin had seen the little hobbit half drowned, trapped in miserable darkness, bruised, bloody, and believing that the king would kill him, yet he had never seen his friend so unhappy. In that moment Thorin knew. There could be no doubt. Bilbo wanted the love of a dwarf. In that moment, Thorin stupidly dared to hope that his own love might be welcome.
So they danced. Savoring the touch of the hobbit’s hand, the warmth of his smile, the weight of his arm, Thorin dared to hope that it would be the first of many such intimacies. Dancing was innocent, of course. Friends and family danced together with joy. Dancing would be such a good way to begin their courtship. Thorin would not press. He would not speak of love right away or make demands. They would share many dances and Thorin would shower Bilbo with at least a dozen gifts before he asked for even a single kiss. Unless. Perhaps Bilbo would want kisses. Perhaps Bilbo would want more than kisses. If he truly hoped to be loved by a dwarf, perhaps he would want Thorin to demonstrate his affection while they were courting. Thorin was willing. Bilbo would never find his king unwilling.
It took some little time for Thorin to master himself after those foolish daydreams occurred to his exhausted mind. Then, when he was ready, he offered Bilbo the gift.
At first it seemed to go well. Bilbo praised and Thorin preened. The hobbit even mentioned planting his tree in Erebor, the final proof that his home was in the mountain and nowhere else. Suddenly it all went wrong. Bilbo refused to wear the pendant. He did not want the courtship. The hobbit’s flattery had only been a salve for Thorin’s feelings. Thorin did not have Bilbo’s love. He had his pity.
What a fool he'd been! How could he have been deluded enough to think Bilbo would welcome the courtship of one so unworthy? Had Bilbo not seen him fail to kill the dragon? Was it not Bilbo himself who had rescued Fili from the deadly trap into which Thorin had blindly ordered his heir? Did not the hobbit save Thorin’s own miserable life time and again when Azog bested him? Why would Bilbo choose someone like Thorin when he might have any dwarf in Erebor?
Feeling as though all his dreams had been jerked from his grasp, Thorin clung to the scraps of time which he was yet allowed. Soon enough Bilbo would be waking in the bed of the astoundingly beautiful dam with whom he spent so much time. Then Thorin would not even have his company for breakfast.
Though it did not come naturally, he tried to be gracious. Thorin knew he would lose Bilbo entirely if he could not master his feelings. Yet the dwarven heart was a jealous thing. Part of him was sure that he could make the hobbit happy. There were pleasures and treasures that only the king of Erebor could offer. Surely Bilbo might still be tempted.
Mahal alone knew how terribly Thorin was tempted. Every time he saw the hobbit, he ached to touch him. Every time he allowed himself to embrace his friend, he longed to kiss him. Even when they spoke of the most inconsequential things, Thorin longed to turn the conversation to love.
Was it any surprise then that Bilbo would not welcome his suit? Thorin should never have been fool enough to press. Two gifts within a single year? Anyone with any sense would refuse such a demanding lover. If Thorin was wise, he would let the matter lie for a time. When Bilbo was more comfortable in Erebor, when Thorin had proved himself an adequate king and friend for a few years, perhaps the hobbit would reconsider. An honorable suitor would not ever offer another gift, for Bilbo had not returned the necklace. One day, Bilbo might yet wear it. Thorin ought to simply live in hope of that day.
Yet clearly he had no honor at all, for time and again during their breakfasts Thorin very nearly asked after the amulet. Always he managed to bite his tongue or say something that would anger Bilbo, but it did not help. Bilbo would smile or press some tidbit to the king’s mouth for him to taste, and the words of love would spring to his lips again. In this way, he nearly destroyed their friendship.
Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain was stronger than that. He would not press. He would not pass his pain on to Bilbo by speaking of it. As a dwarf, he would behave with honor.
No matter the cost.
Perhaps if he paid enough, one day Bilbo would forgive his many faults. It was a fool’s hope, but Thorin’s heart had always been one to dream impossible dreams.